Pretty Pair
by StraddlingTheAtmosphere
Summary: Part 2 of the Sammy the Makeover Queen 'verse. Dean and Cas walk into a gay bar... Dean/Castiel.


Title: Pretty Pair (lame, I know...)  
Spoilers: nada  
Warnings: voilence, gay bars  
Pairing: Dean/Castiel  
Summary: Dean and Cas walk into a gay bar...

* * *

"Dean." The green-eyed hunter busies himself with his laundry, the methodical folding bringing a sense of normalcy into his crazy life.

"Dean." Another shirt is folded, smelling crisp and clean and fresh.

"Dean." He's not avoiding him. He's not. Really.

He just really doesn't want to talk about their newest case and what they have to do.

So, he's not avoiding him.

Really.

"Dean."

"_What,_ Cas?" He looks up to the sharp intake of breath and the smell of rainstorms and thunder clouds.

"It's almost time."

Of course.

"Alright," he sighs, "Let's get this over with." He walks to the door and gets in his Impala, revving up the engine and turning on the music.

The passenger door opens and closes softly, and he hears the swish of fabric as Castiel settles down into the seat.

Ten minutes later they pull up to the bar. A hand on his arm stops him from going inside.

"I'm fairly certain I can do this one on my own if you are uncomfortable, Dean."

For a moment, he hesitates, but images of the bed-headed angel with his full lips and big, innocent eyes being pushed against a wall, surrounded, _violated_ fill his mind and he shudders, pushing Castiel's hand away and stepping into the bar.

The talking hushes for a bit, and he knows the picture he makes. He's not stupid. He's had enough people call him pretty with his pouted lips and violently green eyes to know that he can fit right in.

And it's not like he's completely straight either.

He strides up to the bar, sliding into a stool and asking for a drink. The talking starts up again, and he surveys the area, cool, calculating.

A shaggy, blonde-haired man glances at him with gleaming hazel eyes, appraising him, smirking lewdly. Dean's gaze sharpens and he twitches an eyebrow coolly, knowing he's caught the man's interest.

Perfect.

He swirls his drink and settles back in his seat to wait.

The door opens and the hush is even quieter and longer and he turns, knowing who it is.

It still doesn't prepare him for what he sees.

His breath whooshes out of his body as Castiel steps inside, the low light giving him an unearthly glow. Without his trench coat and ill-fitting suit, there's a slim, lithe body, lean muscles a tease in a dark navy shirt, and narrow hips smoothly flattered by distressed jeans worn low, hipbones peaking seductively out. His hair is even more tousled than usual and his sapphire eyes are huge and luminous in lighting.

God _damn_ did Sam do a good job.

Maybe too good a job, because now Dean's feeling a surge of possessiveness when he sees the blonde-haired man's interest flicker towards the angel and Dean doesn't like it. Not one bit.

Castiel walks, moving like a panther, all grace and danger, to the bar, two seats away from Dean so that they can meet each other's eyes if need be, but still look as if they do not know one or the other.

The blonde-haired man moves toward Castiel like a hawk eyeing its prey and Castiel's eyes fly to meet Dean's, wide with fear and nervousness.

_Breathe, _Dean mouthes, and he stands up, moving to intercept the shapeshifter before he gets to Cas.

"Hey there, pretty," the man croons, voice lilting and soft. He feels Castiel's presence behind him, comforting and _there_.

"Wanna dance?" Dean pitches his voice low and intimate, and the blonde flicks his eyes to the pulsating dance floor of writhing bodies.

"Only if your friend joins."

He hears the angel's quick gasp and has time to glance at his panic-filled eyes before growling out an "okay," grabbing Cas' wrist and pulling him towards him.

The blonde surveys them with lidded eyes. "You two do make a pretty pair," he coos, before slipping in between them and dragging them both onto the dance floor, in the middle of the gyrating bodies. The techno music beats an addicting rhythm and Dean finds himself swaying with the blonde-haired man, grabbing his waist. The blonde is facing a frankly terrified Castiel, but grabs his waist and grinds against him.

The angel stutters, eyes wide and naive, and Dean kind of wants to kiss him and his parted mouth, looking soft and utterly sinful. Soon, the angel is dancing like the best of them and Dean can feel his pants getting tight as he watches Cas' transformation from stuck-up angel to loose, aroused man, eyes dilated and lips parted.

So lost is he in the dancing, he doesn't even notice his hand snaking its way through Castiel's hair, only watching as his eyes snap open, dark and heavy, sending a sharp warmth curling into his gut, and his pink tongue darts out, wetting that pretty mouth.

He also fails to realize that the blonde has slipped from between them, instead just watching them with eyes darken and flashing silver, licking his lips.

He _does_ notice Castiel's fingers gripping his waist and pulling him closer, bring them hip to hip, other hand settling possessively on the other side. Dean's breath catches and he slides his palm through the back of the angel's black locks, watching those eyes darken even more and those lips breathe out a shuddering "Dean" that almost kills him.

They're so close they are breathing the same air and all Dean wants to do is get rid of the small space between them, but a hand touching his shoulder jerks him away, awakens him from this rhythm-inspired trance.

"Come," the low voice of the blonde grits out, beckoning them out the door, and Dean follows, pulling a dazed Castiel with him. The silver knife in his pocket feels heavy and its presence shocks him out of the stupor. Once the men are outside, he swiftly brings the knife out and pins the blonde to the wall.

His smile is sharp and animalistic, all gleaming canines and feral stare. "Think you can get us so easy, huh? Think again, 'shifter."

The blonde's hazel eyes widen. "You two are hunters?"

"He is. I'm not," Castiel voices, tone still slightly hoarse.

"He might as well be, though. How long did you think this was gonna go on for, huh? How long did you think it was going to take people to see how when guys leave this place in the middle of a dance, they never come back? This wasn't ever gonna last forever, bud."

The shapeshifter smirks. "No one would have guessed me, though. It's not like I have any identification."

Dean growls softly under his breath as he feels the skin of the man begin to peel off.

"Cas, help me out here," he hisses, his grip sliding on the slippery skin. Hardly are the words out when a silver knife embeds itself in between the creature's eyes and Dean lets it fall, breathing hard.

"Thanks," he says, and turns to look at the angel, and _hot damn_, there's that face again, the one that would say on anyone else _Jesus Christ, I want to fuck you,_ but on Cas it's more like _I kind of want to kill you_ because the damn angel just couldn't figure out human expressions.

But when he feels himself being shoved against the wall and lips attacking his own, he thinks, Okay, so maybe Castiel finally _is_ catching on.

* * *

A/N: So I feel like Sam would be an awesome makeover person. He's such a girl anyway.


End file.
